


the love that i need

by chininja



Series: Easy Like Breathing [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired by Maid in Manhattan, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 14:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15245820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chininja/pseuds/chininja
Summary: Just for this moment, Sansa allows herself to forget. She is not a hotel maid paying through college, he is not one of the country's most charming senator. They're just two people who decided to see where the spark they felt for each other would take them.





	the love that i need

She wakes up before he does, the light in her eyes, the refrigerator a faint hum in the background and she realizes immediately that she's not in her bed. Sansa runs her fingers through her hair, trying in vain, to untangle the mess it has become. Her attempts at grooming causes her bed partner to tighten his arm around her waist, inevitably pressing her back to his front, and _her back to his front_. She sighs and fidgets to get more comfortable, but the warning squeeze on her breast stops her.

"Good morning," comes the low rumbling rasp behind her. If Sansa had half the mind to give her body over to lust once more, the voice and the person it came from, are making a grand case for it.

She hums in reply when she feels his five o'clock shadow scratching her neck, and gives a nearly imperceptible moan when he nips at the joint where her jaw and neck meet. The light suck he gives causes Sansa's hand to grip his head in place, his blond hair impossibly soft.

The "Jaime" she sighs out is barely a whisper, but he feels he is so attuned to her body and her responses even after just a night spent together that he feels it, and she feels _him_ growing behind her. The moment she feels his hand creeping lower, lower than her stomach, she turns around and puts her weight on his chest. Jaime has a pout on his face Sansa thinks he doesn't even realize he's doing. To compensate for stopping something they both want to happen, she kisses him - once, twice, three times in quick succession. As she starts to move away to try to gather her thoughts, she feels his hand behind her head, pulling him to where his mouth is.

 _I can get addicted to this_ , Sansa thinks to herself. She feels as if she can traverse the world, kiss every male and female, and find them all wanting compared to Jaime Lannister's kisses.

Who said senators were stuffy and boring? Not Sansa. Well, not where Senator Jaime Lannister was concerned anyway.

She feels his other hand move from her cheek, down her back only to squeeze a cheek of a different kind; his index a few centimeters away from her center. That and the rhythmic pressing of his tongue on hers, and Sansa feels her heart pounding, feels hot all over. She pulls away to bite at his lip and presses her hand on his chest when he moves to kiss her again.

This time, she knows he's pouting on purpose. "Jaime, there's something we need to discuss." The young senator closes his eyes and groans audibly; acting more like a teenager and less like the thirty-five year old man he really is. "This sounds a lot like 'we need to talk'." He pries one eye open to look at her before continuing, "Which is funny for you to say considering we've hardly even begun."

And he's right, Sansa gives him that. He has been trying to pursue her despite knowing their difference in status. It was pretty hard to hide the fact that she's a hotel maid when he spilled iced coffee down her uniform. He apologized of course, repeatedly, sincerity apparent in his eyes. She brushes it off, just like they were trained to do when it comes to hotel guests and their slip ups. She was heading for the lockers to get her spare, praying she remembered to have it ironed, when a hand on her elbow stops her.

"Let me at least get it dry cleaned." Sansa stops and stares at this man, a politician she's seen in the papers recently. Upper middle class, in a well tailored suit, expensive looking tie, and hair coiffed just so. He looks so earnest she almost agrees to it. But she remembers the company's rules and deems her job more important than seeking acceptance in this man's gaze.

"It's alright sir, truly. We have a laundry company that services us." It's not exactly a lie. She just doesn't tell him that being a part-timer, she doesn't get to have the same privileges as the full-time staff. She knows she'll have to use the questionable machine in her building to try to get the stain out.

The entire ordeal after was a push and pull on their parts until eventually Sansa was harangued into taking his money to have it washed properly.

Thinking the encounter to be done, his voice stops her once more. "I'm Jaime, by the way," She cocks her head to the side because it doesn't make sense for this charming, important political figure to be shy around her. "I know who you are, senator." She replies back slowly, quietly. She turns again, ready for the encounter to be over.

"Wait!" His voice was slightly raised and a passing couple raised their eyebrows at them. He scratches his jaw and gives a stutterig laugh into his hand at the scene he's causing. He clears his throat and then, "Can I at least get your name?"

Sansa considers him and the hubub that's already taken place, then decides to just get this over with. She points to her blessedly still shiny name plate, "Just Sansa, sir."

It's been four months since, and he was relentless with her. Asking for her every time he and his team were at the hotel she works at, sends her cards and flowers as inconspicuously as he can. She's tried to maintain a professional relationship whenever he was around, ignoring his efforts and --

The decidedly unchaste flick to her nipple brings her back to the present and her comapnion. She slaps his hand away and when he starts to laugh, she presses both hands on his face; a futile attempt at covering it. He's still laughing, although muffled by her palm, when he asks he what she's doing.

"I'm covering your annoyingly, stupidly, handsome face to keep it from distracting me."

He nips at her palm before moving one hand to the sides of his face. He puts on his politician mask but the remnants of his earlier humor are still there. "I'm all ears now. What was it that you wanted to discuss?"

She's still annoyed at him and can tell that he's patronizing her, so she throws a pillow at his face for good measure.

"I wanted to talk about what happens when we leave this room," she sees him open his mouth and she finishes her thought instantly. "And we have to be logical and practical about this." She smooths her hand on his stubby cheek before pushing his hair away from his face. "I don't even know how to make it work, Jaime." She stares at him, sees the laugh and worry lines on his face, the gray mixing with the golden strands of his hair.

"Has someone ever told you that you worry too much?"

"And has someone ever told you that you don't worry at all?"

He sniggers at her response because it's true. "Tyrion, actually. Says I'm too complacent to be in politics, but have too pretty of a face and a pretty okay brain to waste on modeling." She wrinkles her nose in amusement, snorting out a laugh herself.

"Can I ask you something?" He mumbles to her neck when he reached out for her. Unable to speak coherently with her mouth on his cheek, she nods her head yes. "Will you be candid and just tell me what it is you really want - not your brain, but your heart."

Sansa doesn't even spare a moment when she says, "I like you a lot and I just want to be able to call you my boyfriend." She turns shy by her own confession and murmurs the last part into the pillow. Thankfully, Jaime understood her anyway.

She feels him run his fingers back and forth on her back when he says, "I want to be with you too." She turns her head to face him, and gives a tentative smile at the sound of his words.

Sansa traces his brows and the bridge of his nose with her finger. _God, he's like sculpted marble._ "But I know my position, my age, and lack of general good political standing are up against me." She leans her head on her folded arm, she looks at him through her lashes as she traces his collarbone.

"It's the 21st century, doll. Don't you think we've got it in us to shake off traditional notions of relationships?"

And there it is again, Sansa thinks. The earnestness she saw in him a few months ago when they met. The same earnestness Sansa thinks won him the position of a legislator. He's charming with a devil may care attitude, but absolutely sincere when he's found a cause he wants to pursue.

Sansa groans. "It's not fair. You're using your charm-the-public face on me."

Jaime wanted to tease her in response but knew that he had a point to make clear. "I'm just really passionate about you, Sansa, and the possibility of an us in the future."

How does one resist Jaime Lannister?

Unable to come up with an appropriate response to her own question, Sansa leans to give Jaime a kiss. And when hands start to wander once more, she yields to every sensation he emits from her.

Every caress, every lave of a tongue, every squeeze of a breast all designed to make her stay in the present.

Just for this moment, Sansa allows herself to forget. She is not a hotel maid paying through college, he is not one of the country's most charming senator. They're just two people who decided to see where the spark they felt for each other would take them.

And when Jaime inserts his thigh between her legs, urging her to rock back and forth --

Sansa _soars_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback would be great :)


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